The forest swallowed sound.
Connor stumbled through the clearing before finally stopping, his boots skidding slightly on damp earth. His breath tore in and out of his chest, sharp and uneven, like his lungs were scraping against broken glass. Sweat slid down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. A brief flicker of lightning sparked around his ankle—instinctive, uncontrolled—then fizzled out as quickly as it came.
His legs gave up.
Connor dropped to one knee, fingers digging into the soil, then sank back until he was sitting in the dirt. The ground was cold. Solid. Real. For a moment, that was enough to keep him from shaking apart.
The forest hummed around him. Crickets chirped. Leaves whispered as the wind passed through them. Life continued, uncaring.
The only people who accepted me… even with these scars…
His jaw tightened.
I let them go.
Connor's hand curled into a fist so hard his knuckles ached.
"Idiot," he muttered.
The word tasted bitter.
He sucked in a slow breath and pushed himself up—
—and froze.
Someone stood only a few steps away.
Connor's spine went rigid as instinct screamed at him. His eyes snapped to the figure: a man cloaked in a dark hood, hands clasped behind his back, head tilted toward a tree.
Not just looking at it.
Staring at it.
Like the tree owed him money.
Connor narrowed his eyes.
"…What are you looking at?"
The hooded figure startled, jumping slightly like he'd been caught stealing.
"Oh—! Uh—"
He leaned closer to the tree, squinting hard, buying himself time.
"I was just… uhhhh…"
Connor didn't move.
The figure nodded decisively, as if he'd solved a great mystery.
"Looking at that tree. It's beautiful, right?"
Silence stretched.
Connor stared at him. Long. Flat.
"…Whatever."
He turned away, already regretting stopping in the first place.
Behind him, the tension eased—almost audibly.
"You see that snake over there?" the hooded figure said casually.
Connor glanced sideways.
A snake slid across the forest floor, scales catching faint moonlight as it moved through fallen leaves. It didn't hiss. Didn't rear. Just passed by, uninterested in either of them, before disappearing into the brush.
"Dangerous creature, yeah?" the figure continued.
Connor said nothing.
"Didn't attack. Didn't threaten anyone."
A pause.
"Still… people are terrified of it."
Connor scoffed. "You trying to be philosophical?"
The hooded man scratched the back of his head, awkward even in silhouette.
"You can tell I'm not great at it."
The wind rustled the canopy above them. Leaves trembled. Somewhere far off, something hooted.
"But the world is unfair."
Connor turned fully this time, lightning prickling faintly beneath his skin.
"So what?" he said. "You following me to give life advice?"
"No."
The answer came immediately.
"I came here for a reason."
Connor's posture shifted, weight settling into his heels.
"Yeah?"
"What reason?"
The hooded figure stepped closer—not aggressively, but without hesitation. His face remained hidden beneath the shadow of the hood.
"I want to train you."
Connor laughed. It was sharp and humorless, the sound of someone who'd heard one insult too many in a single night.
"Train me?"
Lightning crawled briefly across his knuckles, snapping in warning arcs.
"Buddy, I don't think you know what you're doing right now," Connor said.
"It's not a smart idea."
"I don't think it's smart."
Connor's smile vanished.
"I think it's necessary."
The silence that followed felt heavier than any thunder.
Connor studied him. The stance. The breathing. Too calm. Too sure.
"Why?"
The hooded figure exhaled slowly.
"Because power without control turns people into monsters."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"And monsters don't get to keep friends."
Connor's jaw tightened.
"…You know them."
The figure didn't answer.
Instead, he said, "You ran because you're afraid of hurting people."
Connor looked away.
"That already makes you different."
The man stepped back, giving space—not retreating, just… allowing choice.
"Train with me," he said.
"Or keep running until someone stronger puts you down."
Lightning whispered around Connor's feet, faint but steady now. His breathing slowed, each inhale measured, deliberate.
"…If this is a trick—"
"Relax."
The hooded figure lifted both hands slightly.
"If I wanted you dead, you'd already be fertilizer."
A snort escaped Connor before he could stop it.
He stared at the ground. At the dirt under his boots. At the path ahead that led nowhere familiar.
"…Fine."
The hooded man smiled beneath the hood.
"Good."
He turned and started walking, boots crunching softly over leaves.
"Oh—and Connor?"
Connor looked up.
"Try not to die during training."
Connor smirked faintly.
"What? Ok… whatever."
They walked deeper into the forest together.
One hiding his face.
The other hiding his fear.